


Only You

by CelestialVoid



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Boys Kissing, First Kiss, Insomnia, Insomniac Stiles Stilinski, Kissing, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Mates, Neck Kissing, Night Terrors, Platonic Cuddling, Post-Nogitsune, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Post-Season/Series 03, Sharing a Bed, Sheriff Stilinski Knows, Sheriff Stilinski Knows About Werewolves, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Sleeping Together, Slow Build, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Soulmates, Werewolf Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 06:07:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20187529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialVoid/pseuds/CelestialVoid
Summary: Stiles is haunted by nightmares, but Derek has a way of helping him sleep that only Derek can seem to do.





	Only You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sisforsterek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sisforsterek/gifts).

There were some things that Stiles could never forget. He could never forget the feeling of being paralysed, of watching his own body move but not being the one in control. He couldn’t shake the memories of what it felt like to be a puppet—to have someone else pulling at his strings.

It was as if he were drifting in oblivion, lost in the tangled mess of his own mind. He was weightless, pulled into the stream of nothingness like a leaf caught by the current of a river. He had no control: he couldn’t move, he couldn’t speak—couldn’t scream; he could only watch—helpless—as someone else, some_thing _else, controlled his body.

“Help,” he cried into the void, his voice strained to a weak whimper that no-one could hear. “Someone, help.”

The darkness closed in around him, weighing down on him until it felt as if it were crushing him. Tears welled in his eyes as his lungs burnt for air, searing pain flowing through his veins. It was suffocating.

Stiles bolted upright in the bed, his scream tearing at his throat.

His bedroom door flew open as his dad ran into his room, diving onto the bed beside him and pulling the boy back against his chest. He pinned Stiles’ flailing arms to his side and held him close.

Stiles fought back for a minute, thrashing about as his father whispered quietly to him.

His heart-breaking wail died down to a soft sob as tears trailed down his pale cheeks. He settled back into the security of his dad’s arms. He tried to calm his breathing, his hands trembling as he gently pulled himself free from his dad’s hold.

“I’m okay,” he muttered, his voice void of emotion as he repeated the words he had said so many times before. “It’s just a nightmare.”

“Stiles,” his father started slowly.

“I’m going to go for a walk,” Stiles said, kicking his legs free of the bed sheets and pulling on a pair of jeans and a hoodie. “The fresh air will do me some good.”

“It’s three o’clock in the morning,” his father pointed out.

“And you’ve got work in a few hours. You should go back to bed,” Stiles replied. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” his father said reluctantly. “Just keep your phone on you and call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed, grabbing his phone and shoving it in his pocket. He didn’t say another word as he walked out of his bedroom, dragging his feet down the stairs and making his way out of the house.

He locked the front door behind himself, letting the bitterly cold night air bite at his tear-stained cheeks. His feet moved instinctively beneath him, his mind numb as he walked down the dimly lit streets.

He made his way down the abandoned back streets of Beacon Hills where no-one else dared to go at night.

He stopped before a large building that stood tall among the rest—old but not damaged, covered in spray-paint and crude tags, or in ruins like the surrounding abandoned factories. He made his way over to the door and pushed the buzzer.

A second later, a familiar gruff voice came out of the speaker. “It’s three-thirty in the morning. What the hell do you want?”

“It’s Stiles,” he said weakly. “I’m sorry if I woke you. I just need to talk to someone.”

Derek didn’t reply. A second later, there was a quiet click as the door unlocked.

“Come on up,” Derek said.

Stiles shoved the door open and made his way up to the loft where Derek was waiting for him.

“Are you alright?” Derek asked as Stiles stepped into the loft. He guided the teen towards the couch, sitting down with him.

Stiles couldn’t answer him—he couldn’t look the man in the eye; he didn’t want to see the pity and the worry that he knew was painted across the man’s face.

He shook his head.

“Is this about the Nogitsune?” Derek hazarded a guess.

Stiles nodded.

“It’s over, Stiles,” Derek reassured him, his deep voice soft and quiet. “I promise, it’s over. It’s going to be okay.”

“No, it’s not,” Stiles said, his voice strained. “Everyone keeps saying that, but it’s not—it’s not going to be okay. I can’t sleep because I’m terrified that the next time I wake up I won’t be in control, or I’ll be standing over a dead body—the body of someone _I_killed.”

“The Nogitsune is gone.”

“Is it?” Stiles asked, the quiver in his voice making Derek’s heart sink. “What if the Nogitsune isn’t completely gone? What if it never goes away? I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“I won’t let that happen,” Derek repeated, his voice quiet but firm.

Stiles shook his head.

“I can’t sleep,” he admitted, unable to fight back the tears that fell from his eyes. “I’m so tired, but I can’t sleep. I’m scared to close my eyes, and whenever I do, I only ever have nightmares.”

Derek let out a soft sigh.

“I want to try something,” Derek said, rising to his feet. “Come with me.”

Stiles stood up, taking a second to steady himself. “Where are we going?”

“Bed,” Derek answered.

Stiles’ footsteps faltered. “As in… your bed?”

“Yeah. Take your jeans off—you’ll be more comfortable without them.”

Stiles levelled him with look as if he were crazy but did as he was told, wrestling his legs free of his jeans before shrugging off his hoodie and letting it drop to the floor. He slid into bed, pulling the thick blanket up over him as he curled into a ball.

Derek slid in next to him, pulling Stiles against his chest.

Stiles flailed, pulling away from Derek. “Whoa! What are you doing?”

“Calm down. I’m not going to do anything,” he promised, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “I have a trick that might help with the nightmares. Do you trust me?”

Stiles nodded.

“Then lie down,” Derek said softly.

Stiles did, settling into the warmth of Derek’s arms. He drew in a deep breath, letting Derek’s soft musk—the smell of pine, smoke, and petrichor—fill his senses. He felt himself relax, letting his eyes fall shut as his mind drifted away into the peaceful oblivion of sleep.

The next time he woke, it was to the sound of his alarm going off.

He sat up, reaching over the edge of the bed and fishing his phone from the pocket of his jacket. He silenced his alarm and sat up, dragging his hand down his face as he blinked himself awake. He looked around, taking a second to remind himself where he was.

He glanced over his shoulder at where Derek laid beside him, shifting slightly as the man rolled onto his side and settled back into sleep.

A strange warmth settled in his chest, a small smile playing across his lips.

Realisation washed over him as he became aware of the fact that he’d slept—without nightmares.

Stiles sat up in his bed, watching as the hours ticked by. His eyes were heavy and he desperately wanted to sleep, but every time he dozed off, the nightmares clawed their way into his mind.

He let out a heavy sigh as he relented, picking up his phone and sending Derek a message.

**Hey, I know it’s late and I’m sorry if I woke you, **  
but I can’t sleep. Can you maybe come over  
and do that thing you did?

A moment later, he got a reply: ‘**I’ll be there in ten**.’

True to his word, Derek arrived minutes later, climbing up the side of the house and through Stiles’ bedroom window.

“Because that looks totally innocent,” Stiles teased.

“Your dad’s car is in the driveway,” Derek pointed out.

“Fair enough,” Stiles said. Without another word, he shuffled over to make room for Derek.

Derek kicked his pants off and climbed into bed next to Stiles, wrapping his arms around the teen and holding him close.

It didn’t take long for Stiles to drift off to sleep, and when he woke the next morning it was to his father shaking him awake, his face set in a scowl and anger brewing in his eyes.

“Hey, Dad,” Stiles said sleepily. “What’s up?”

“Care to explain why Derek Hale is in your bed?”

Stiles’ eyes flew wide open. He bolted upright, turning to look at Derek, who looked back at him guiltily.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Stiles said innocently. “We weren’t doing anything.”

John pointed at Stiles. “You, downstairs, now.”

The Sheriff stalked towards the door, calling over his shoulder, “And don’t even think about climbing out the window, Derek.”

Stiles waited until his father was gone before turning to look at Derek.

Derek offered him an apologetic smile.

“So much for werewolf hearing,” Stiles hissed as he clambered out of bed, grabbed a pair of pants, and pulled them on.

“I was just as much asleep as you were,” Derek replied.

Stiles pulled a face at him before following his father downstairs and into the lounge room, where his dad stood with his arms crossed and his stern expression unwavering.

“You have two seconds to explain yourself,” John said.

“He makes the nightmares go away,” Stiles said quickly.

John’s brow furrowed as he blinked in confusion, taking a second to register what his son said. “What?”

“I can’t sleep without waking up screaming from nightmares. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in _months_. But yesterday, I ended up at Derek’s and while we were talking, he suggested trying something. We laid down together and slept, and somehow, he made the nightmares go away,” Stiles explained. His voice grew quiet as he added, “That sounds a lot worse that it is. I swear on mum’s life, there is nothing going on between us. But I can’t sleep without him there.”

His dad’s expression didn’t waver.

Stiles felt his heart sink. He knew that look in his father’s eyes; he didn’t believe him.

“Go get ready for school,” he said firmly. “And tell Derek I want a word with him.”

Stiles opened his mouth to argue, but his words died before they reached his throat. His breath fell past his lips as he bowed his head and walked away.

A moment later, Derek came downstairs.

“Are you dating my son?” John asked bluntly.

“No,” Derek answered, taken aback.

“Then how is it that you can help my son sleep without nightmares?”

“It’s something werewolves can do in certain situations,” Derek explained.

“Is this something Scott could learn?” Sheriff Stilinski asked. “Because it’s weird—and illegal—for a twenty-three-year-old man to be sleeping in a seventeen-year-old’s bed.”

“It’s not something Scott would be able to do,” Derek answered.

“Why not?”

Derek felt a warm blush colour his cheeks as he bowed his head. He muttered something quietly enough that the Sheriff couldn’t quite make out his words.

“Speak up,” John ordered.

“Because it’s something wolves can only do for their mates.”

“Mates?” John repeated back to him, shocked.

“They’re like a soulmate—the one person that a wolf is most compatible with; the one person they’d die for. And, believe me, I was surprised to find out it was him too,” Derek said, running his hand through his hair.

“Does Stiles know?” Sheriff Stilinski asked.

“No,” Derek answered. “And I don’t want him to.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s seventeen.”

“So you were just not going to tell him?” John asked.

“I was going to tell him eventually,” Derek replied.

“When?”

“When he turned eighteen—if he wasn’t dating someone,” Derek admitted.

“You’re willing to wait, to not tell him he’s your soulmate, to watch him date other people?”

Derek nodded.

Sheriff Stilinski let out a heavy sigh, dragging his hand down his weary face.

“Alright,” he started slowly. “I will allow you to keep sleeping with my son. But there are rules. The door stays open _at least _three inches, you come through the front door when you come over, and you can only sleep with him if _sleeping_ is the _only_ thing you two do. And lastly, you can’t tell him that you’re mates until he’s eighteen. Agreed?”

Derek nodded. “Agreed.”

It became a routine. Derek would arrive every night just before Stiles went to sleep—sometimes earlier and stayed for dinner—and every morning, Stiles would wake up, rested and undisturbed by nightmares. Every morning, he’d ask Derek how he does it, and Derek would always reply, ‘A magician never reveals his secrets’.

That, however, only made Stiles more curious.

“Can every wolf do this?” Stiles asked, sitting up and looking down at Derek.

“Yes,” Derek answered, his voice lethargic as he laid in bed.

“But only for certain people?” Stiles guessed. “Otherwise you would have saved yourself the embarrassment and got Scott or someone to do this.”

Derek hummed, lifting his arm over his head to shield his eyes from the morning light that drifted through the window.

“Does that mean I’m your mate?”

Derek froze.

Stiles gasped. “Oh my God, I’m your mate.”

“Shh,” Derek hissed, sitting upright and frantically looking from Stiles to the bedroom door.

Stiles frowned in confusion. “What?”

“Your dad told me not to tell you,” Derek admitted.

“My dad knows?” Stiles shrieked. “You told _my dad_?”

“I had to,” Derek replied, trying to keep his voice calm and level. “I had to tell him how it is I can help you sleep without nightmares and he made me swear not to tell you.”

Stiles scrunched his face up in thought.

“Hang on,” Stiles said, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and hurried out of his room. He made his way downstairs and into the lounge room where his dad sat in his favourite arm chair, a cup of coffee in one hand and a newspaper in the other. “Dad, I’ve been thinking. It’s not fair that Derek has to sleep here all the time. He has his own home and he should be able to sleep in his own bed.”

His dad let out a heavy sigh, setting down his coffee and folding up the newspaper before turning to Stiles and levelling his gaze on his son. “You know, don’t you?”

“Know what?” Stiles said, feigning innocence.

“Don’t act dumb with me,” his dad said firmly.

“Fine. Yes, I know—I worked it out.”

His dad let out another deep breath.

Stiles crossed the room and sat down on the couch, looking at his dad. “If you’re worried about him taking advantage of me, you don’t have to. I like him—I really like him—and I’ve liked him for a long time, but I wasn’t going to say or do anything until I was old enough that I wouldn’t be breaking any laws.”

His dad fell quiet, dropping his gaze as his eyes darkened with thought.

“He makes me feel safe,” Stiles admitted, keeping his voice low. “And I know that Derek won’t do anything to hurt me.”

“You can stay at Derek’s on the weekends,” his father compromised. “But if I hear so much as a whisper of something untoward going on—”

“You won’t,” Stiles promised. “I turn eighteen in a week. Until then, nothing untoward will happen, I swear.”

It was just the two of them in the loft, and a peaceful quiet settled between them.

Derek sat on the couch, reading a book while Stiles set his computer up on the desk—as Derek had insisted—to work on an assignment. But no matter how much he tried to focus, he couldn’t brush aside the questions that clouded his mind.

“So, when were you going to tell me?” Stiles asked.

“Tell you what?” Derek replied, not looking up from his book.

“That I was your mate.”

“When you turned eighteen,” Derek answered honestly. “If you weren’t dating anyone.”

“And what if I was dating someone?”

“Then, probably, never.”

“You never wondered if I felt the same way about you?” Stiles asked.

“Of course, I did,” Derek replied. “I thought about that a lot.”

“Well?” Stiles prompted, shutting his computer.

“What?”

“Ask me.”

Derek slid a bookmark between his pages and shut his book, setting it aside on the coffee table before turning to look at Stiles. “Do you?”

“Do I what?” Stiles teased, a mischievous smirk playing across his lips.

Derek rose from the couch, stalking over to his desk. He leant against the concrete tabletop, towering over Stiles as he met his gaze. His voice was low and surly as he asked, “Do you feel the same way about me?”

Stiles froze, suddenly losing his confidence. His chest tightened as he lost himself in the shimmering depths of Derek’s aventurine eyes. His heart hammered against his ribs, his lips quivering around the words that never made it past his lips. He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat and nodded.

“I need to hear you say it,” Derek whispered, his husky voice sending a shiver down Stiles spine.

“I do,” Stiles replied.

Derek cupped Stiles’ cheek, tilting his head so his lips were millimetres away from the boy’s, his warm breath rolling across Stiles’ lips. He closed the space and brought their lips together.

Stiles let his breath fall from his lungs as his shoulders dropped. His eyes fluttered shut as he leant into the kiss.

Derek drew back, licking his lips and grinning at Stiles’ euphoric expression.

Stiles tilted his chin, chasing his Derek’s lips. He felt Derek chuckle against his mouth as he brought them back together again.

Derek stepped around the edge of the desk and over to Stiles’ side.

Stiles pushed the chair back and rose to his feet. He looped his arms around Derek’s neck, desperately clinging to his jacket as he brought his lips back to Derek’s.

Derek dropped his hands to Stiles’ waist and pulled him close, enveloping him in his warmth. He ran his tongue across Stiles’ bottom lip and moaned as he obediently opened his mouth to welcome Derek’s tongue.

Stiles sighed in return, weaving his fingers into Derek’s hair and balling soft tufts into his fist.

His lungs burnt so much he wanted to cry but he desperately didn’t want to let go. He weakened in Derek’s arms.

Derek drew back again. He kissed him lightly, drawing away quickly as he craned his neck and placed a trail of kisses across the boy’s cheek, jaw, chin, and neck. He pressed soft kisses against the patches of mole-speckled skin before trailing his lips back up to Stiles’ and pulling him back into a kiss.

His hands slid up Stiles’ side, running up the curve of his spine and urging the boy arch to his touch.

Stiles trailed his fingers down the front of Derek’s shirt and down to the waistline of Derek’s jeans.

Derek pulled back from the kiss, his hot breath rolling across Stiles’ lips.

“Nuh-uh.”

Stiles whimpered, tugging at his jeans and grinding their hips together.

“Not until you’re eighteen,” he said with finality.

“But that’s only a week away.”

“As tempting as it is, I’m not going to break the law. Especially with the Sheriff’s son.”

Stiles pouted. “You’re no fun.”

Derek smirked, taking Stiles’ face in his hands and bringing their lips together again in a tender kiss.

They’d been together a few years before Derek finally worked up the courage to bring up the idea of getting married. He was lying in bed with Stiles curled up against his side when he asked, “If I were to propose to you, what kind of engagement ring would you want?”

Stiles thought about it for a second.

“I’d want a diamond in the middle with two rubies—one either side,” Stiles answered eagerly.

“Rubies?” Derek asked, a little bewildered.

Stiles sat up, clambering over Derek and straddling his waist with his thighs. His voice was low and sultry as he leant forward and whispered, “They remind me of your alpha eyes.”

A small smile lifted the corners of Derek’s lips as Stiles ran his hands up Derek’s chest, leaning forward until his lips were millimetres away from Derek’s.

“Or peridot,” Stiles suggested, his voice still holding its sultry tone. “Like those gorgeous green eyes of yours that I lose myself in whenever I look at you.”

Derek let out a low chuckle. He wrapped his arm around Stiles’ waist, flipping the young man on his back.

Stiles let out a surprised gasp as Derek pinned him to the bed.

“You’re such a sap,” Derek purred, smiling as he crushed their mouths together.

**Author's Note:**

> celestialvoid-fanfiction.tumblr.com


End file.
